The Exploited
by pulchra fabula
Summary: Part two in " The Damian Effect". Sequel to "The Attempt" but not necessary to read before this. Gibbs and his team find a strange person at their crime scene. And its not long before all mayhem breaks loose!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi all! This is the sequel to "The Attempt" (Found in the Batman and Alex Rider crossover section). It's not necessary to read that first, but I'd really appreciate if you did and dropped me a review. Also, this takes place after Leviathan Strikes (the Batman INC. one-shot). **

**Thanks so much for your support and enjoy!**

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"A shot to the heart," Special Agent Tony DiNozzo remarked to Agent Tim McGee as he continuously snapped pictures of the body. "The lover was clearly jilted. She deemed it 'poetic justice' that his cause of death should be the same as hers. Except, her's was metaphorical and his was literal."

McGee sighed. "Tony, you don't know it was the wife—you don't even know if he was married!"

"Ring on the ring finger Probie—he was married," DiNozzo pointed out and smirked at McGee, who rolled his eyes.

"You still can't say right off the bat that it was the wife, Tony."

"Always suspect the wife, McGeek. Always suspect the wife."

"Well, it seems the me that the wife would have had to been pretty proficient with a gun," McGee said, "because the person that killed our marine knew what they were doing."

"Hm…..an assassin wife then," Tony mused. "Maybe they were like Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Angelina Jolie, heh."

"Focus Tony, will ya?" McGee asked, taking pictures as well.

You know, Probie, I—" Tony began, but stopped when he heard a thud. "Ziva? Boss? You alright?"

"Wasn't us DiNozzo," Gibbs said, appearing behind Tony.

"Then who?" McGee asked, but halted as another noise was heard.

_Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. _It was repetitive, but growing weaker. Gibbs hustled over to the wall and rapped his knuckles against it. _Thud-Thud-Thud, _the noise answered in response.

"We need to break this wall," Gibbs ordered.

"We may not need to," Ziva David interrupted. Three heads turned towards her; she pointed to a dresser on the far corner of the wall. "Perhaps there is a hidden door; after all whoever put the person making the sounds back there had to get in somehow."

Tony and McGee separated the dresser from the wall, and sure enough, a locked door was behind it. Ziva pulled out her gun and blasted the lock off; then the four pulled held their guns ready and stepped inside the room.

They froze as soon as they caught sight of the person trapped in the room. Ziva muttered a few choice words in her native language as Tony and McGee swore under their breath. Gibbs said nothing, but his rigid posture conveyed how outraged he was.

The figure was a bloody mess; lacerations covered all the visible parts of his body—some were deep, some were shallow, but all of them were extremely painful. His hands were zip-tied above his head; a rope connected his wrists to an exposed pipe in the ceiling above. He was unable to escape; he sat on his knees, which were bound together with a strong wire, and his ankles were zip-tied as well—to each other and a water pipe jutting out from the wall. A sign written in Arabic was hung with a chain from his neck. He caught sight of NCIS and appeared to give a grin through the blood-crusted gag in his mouth. Catching their eye, he contorted his hands to grip the rope that kept his arms suspended and pulled his knees up from the ground; then he let go. He landed with a _thud_—the sound that had brought the agents to his rescue.

But all of that wasn't what had shocked the seasoned agents. Not the blood, the injuries, or the pain the captive was in. The prisoner had them frozen in place, unable to move. Because it wasn't a man tied up, but a kid—one that only looked about 10.

Ziva was the first to gather herself and sprint to the boy's side. She was about to cut him free when he shook his head at her, then motioned to Tony and Tim. They came forward with Gibbs and Tony reached for Ziva's knife. Again, the boy shook his head "no" and stared hard that the two cameras that they had placed on the ground.

"But you're in pain," McGee stated, breaking the silence. The boy glared at him, and there was something in his eye that made him look more formidable than his pre-teen years.

"Quickly McGee," Gibbs ordered. "Take the damn pictures." Tony and Tim immediately began to take as many pictures of the scene as they could in the shortest amount of time possible. Once they had finished they looked at Gibbs, who looked at the boy. The kid nodded, and Ziva began to release him.

Gibbs caught the boy as he fell forward, and gently eased the bloodied gag from his mouth. The boy tried to say something, but Gibbs told him to keep quiet. The boy struggled and swallowed, before hoarsely speaking to Gibbs.

"No…hospitals…" he croaked out. "They…find me." And the effort of speaking and escaping joined with no nourishment finally took their toll on the boy as he passed out in Gibbs' arms with all four of the agents' gaze on him.

Making a decision he was sure he was going to regret, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs stood up with the boy in his arms and began to walk out to his car.

"Bag and tag everything—I'm talking the kid to Ducky," he called over his shoulder. Nodding and adding affirmatives, Ziva, Tony, and Tim began to follow Gibbs' orders; once they heard the sound of the engine and heard the tired squealing away, the silence that had fallen over them was broken by Tony's loud explicative.

"Tony," Ziva reprimanded. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Like you weren't thinking the exact same thing," Tony snarled. "I can't believe it. A kid withstanding all of that? I couldn't do it."

"I couldn't either Tony," McGee added, as he shivered. The both looked at Ziva, who sighed.

"While we are taught to be tough in Mossad, I could not have done what he did at his age," Ziva finally said.

"Who is he?" McGee wondered, "I mean, we get called in for a dead marine, found by some kids who were getting high, only to stumble upon a ten-year-old in a hidden room."

"Just another day on team Gibbs, Probie," Tony said. He turned to say something to Ziva, who was staring darkly at the sign that was hung around the boy's next.

"Ziva?" McGee asked. "What's wrong?"

"This is an extremely odd message to leave," Ziva responded. "I am unsure what they could possibly mean."

"What's does it say Ziva?" Tony asked. The woman turned and looked at the two men, confusion etched across her face. She glanced at the sign and then back at Tony and Tim.

"It says 'Your move, Beloved.'"

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**So I hope you guys like the 2ed installment. Please, please, please let me know what you think! **

**Thanks and I love you all! :)**

**Reviews= happiness. **


	2. Chapter 2

Pain. That's all he knows. That's all he's ever known. Pain is how you get better. Pain is the best motivator. Pain can be erased. Pain will be erased. Pain is a weakness. You cannot be weak. You will not be weak. Weakness will not be tolerated. You will not be perfect. You must be perfect. You cannot be tarnished. If you are tarnished, you will not be perfect. You will not be what She wants. You will not be loved.

…was he ever loved?

Ignore the pain, ignore the confusion. Where was he? Was he in danger? What's the last thing he remembers?

The rescue! He was free! The federal agents found him. Crap! Was he in a hospital? Should he dare open his eyes? Could he open his eyes? One way to find out…

Slowly, he squinted in the bright light of the room. After his tired eyes had adjusted, he made sure that he could move all his muscles and body parts. Thankfully, he could and everything was fine, besides being sore as hell. He was stiff, and all of his cuts hurt, but had been cleaned and bandaged.

Getting himself into a sitting position took longer than he'd like, but he finally did it. Holding back a groan, he stood up and looked around.

"Probably a mortician's" he grumbled. "Least he knows how to stitch up a body properly."

He spent a few minutes making sure all feeling was back in his limbs and he could move freely. He had no shoes or shirt, but at least he had black sweatpants on. Walking around the place, he finally found was he was looking for—a sweatshirt. It was a hooded grey sweatshirt, with NCIS in block lettering across the front.

"NCIS…Naval Criminal Investigative Service," he mumbled, gently pulling the soft sweatshirt above his head. Pulling up the hood so that his face was covered, he began to make his way, barefoot, towards the door.

He leapt back as the door opened on its own and an older man with a Scottish accent and glass walked in. Looking around wildly for a weapon, he grabbed a scalpel and held it out in front of him.

"Why my dear boy!" the man exclaimed. "You shouldn't be up yet. I gave you enough painkillers to keep you out for hours." The man looked kindly down at the boy. "Are you alright there?" The hooded figure gave no verbal response, just a nod of the head.

The man crouched down so that he and the boy were eye-level. He stared at the child, noting the boy's eyes, posture, and facial expression. The man sighed, stood again, and held out his hand for the child to shake.

"My name is Dr. Mallard, but you can call me Ducky," Ducky introduced himself. "And I promise I won't hurt you, so if you could please put that down, I would be much appreciative."

An intense look, an assessment of the situation, a glance at the scalpel, then back at the doctor, and the weapon was returned to its original position.

"Thank you, dear boy. Now I don't suppose I could convince you to stay down here and rest?" Ducky asked.

The boy shot him a cold look.

"Of course not, you want to find Gibbs and find out what's going on, am I right?"

A slow nod was the response Ducky got.

The doctor sighed. "Well, then, I know your type. Nothing I say will stop you. Therefore, I'm going to pretend that I was never here. We missed each other, as I went to visit Abby in her lab. Good day, young fellow, and perhaps we'll be properly introduced later."

With a wave, Ducky turned and left, leaving a startled boy in his wake. A grin appeared across that child's face as he went to the elevator and began his search for Gibbs.

It didn't take too long, and he was able to sneak up on Gibbs and his team and listen to what they had to say. Currently they were talking about the sign that had hung around his neck. He listened carefully.

"It says what?" Agent Gibbs asked his team in disbelief. He looked from Tony to Tim to Ziva, back to Tony. His lead agent shrugged.

"Ziva says it states 'Your move, Beloved.' And we have really no idea what that means, boss. Who's 'beloved'? And how did the person know that it would be found by the person they intended it too?" Tony rattled off his questions. Gibbs and the team stood in silence for a few minutes.

"Alright, take a five-minute break from the kid's case," Gibbs ordered. "Tell me if the dead marine fits into it in any way."

"Petty Officer Sean Davenport. Married four years ago, wife died of cancer about six months back. Nothing but good reports from his peers and superiors. The guy was extremely clean," Tony replied quickly.

"Then why was he shot, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked. Tony opened and closed his mouth, a pensive look on his face.

"I find it interesting in the way he was shot," Ziva announced. "It was, as McGee said, a very clean and precise shot. Not many people could make it."

"So, what? An assassin?" Tim asked. "You think someone put a hit out on the Petty Officer?"

"-tt-" the boy hiding said under his breath. These people did not know what they were talking about. Abandoning his hiding place, the boy walked right up to Gibbs, DiNozzo, McGee and Ziva.

"Of course not," he said, startling them. His voice came out scratchy and it hurt, but he ignored it. "Why—" he began to explain, but was stopped by a water bottle thrust in his direction. He looked up into the eyes of Agent Gibbs and nodding his thanks, took the bottle and took a sip.

"What's your name, kid?" Gibbs asked, watching the boy drink and noting how the kid knew not to drink too much at once after not having anything to eat or drink for an extended period of time. This boy knew more than most did.

The boy glared back at Gibbs. "Richard."

"Real name, kid. Don't lie to me," Gibbs sternly ordered, gazing into the boy's eyes.

"How do you know I'm lying?" he shot back.

"I just do," Gibbs replied, looking coldly down at the boy. "Now, you tell me your real name or I send you to the hospital. You have ten seconds to make up your mind."

The boy clenched his fist and gave Gibbs a steely look.

"10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2—"

"Damian," the boy huffed out at the last second.

"Damian what?" Gibbs asked motioning to McGee to run a search. Damian rolled his eyes at their movements.

"I can't tell you—They might find me. And don't bother with a search; I won't be on any list. Now, do you want my help or not?"

"How can you help us?" Tony asked, laughing in disbelief.

"I know more than you do. Your Petty Office was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time," Damian responded gazing at hatred at Tony for laughing at him.

"I don't believe in that," Tony told the boy.

"Well believe it, because I was present. He came to drink alone, stumbled upon something he shouldn't have, and was rewarded for it with a shot to the heart."

"No one put out a hit?" Ziva asked.

"Not on him," Damian muttered savagely.

"But there was a hit put out?" Ziva pressed on, catching the underlying meaning in the boy's words. Damian's gaze swept the room before his eyes landed on Gibbs, who raised an eyebrow at the child. Looking at the former marine, Damian nodded.

"Who was the hit put out on, Damian?" Gibbs asked, his eyes never leaving the child's.

Damian swallowed and sighed. He never broke eye contact with Gibbs, nor did his voice waver as he responded.

"Me."

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	3. Chapter 3

It would have taken a chainsaw to cut the silence the enveloped the entire team. Damian and Gibbs still were having a stare down. Ziva was staring at Damian in a new light, studying him intently. McGee was open-mouthed and astounded. DiNozzo was half-way between laughing and shouting—even he didn't seem to know what to do.

No one wanted to break the silence, yet not a single member of Gibbs' team doubted the truth of the boy's statement.

The uncomfortable silence was broken by the sound of smashing glass and whistling of a bullet. Everyone dropped to the floor as the bullet embodied itself in the wall behind Damian. A woman began to scream as a figure wearing a black-and-copper unitard and carrying enough weaponry to supply an army, stepped through the shards of the window and onto the floor on the NCIS building.

"Come here kid," the man with one eyed called. "Let's avoid any unnecessary fighting, alright? You have three seconds to get out here, or I'm going to start killing everyone on this floor, do you understand me?"

"Who are you and why do you want the boy? Gibbs demanded from where he crouched, holding his gun, behind his desk. Ziva was holding her gun, waiting for Gibbs' signal, as was Tony. McGee was shielding Damian with his body, trying to keep the boy out of the madman's sight.

"Ah! A volunteer who wants to be the first to die! Since you asked, I'll grant your final wish. My name is Deathstroke. Pleased to meet you before I kill you," the mercenary responded.

"And why do you want the kid?" Gibbs asked.

Deathstroke laughed. "Money is a factor. Half-a-billion is quite a tidy sum these days. But I think revenge is much more satisfying, though. Boy! Come here now or these people die. 3, 2—"

"Stop! Stop!" Damian ran out in plain view of Deathstroke, holding up his hands in surrender. McGee slowly got up from where Damian had roughly shoved him. Gibbs cursed and exposed the upper half of his body in order to train his gun on Deathstroke.

"Damian. Damian. Damn it kid come back here right now!" Gibbs yelled at the boy, who only shook his head and continued to gaze at Deathstroke, who had his weapon trained on Gibbs.

"If you do not put down your weapons now," Gibbs addressed the mercenary, "my agents and I will open fire."

The man cocked his head. "What do you think, boy? Think the old man could out-shoot me? Tell you what. You come with me, and I won't blow this play sky-high and kill the old man. Deal?"

"Swear it on Rose's life," Damian hissed.

The man's postured stiffened as he glared at the boy. "I swear it. Now come here!"

Damian spared half a glance at Gibbs. "I'm so sorry," he muttered before slowly making his way to the man with a million guns. Gibbs, Ziva, Tony, Tim, and the entire floor watch as the ten-year-old walked over to Deathstroke. He was barely clothed, with an oversized sweatshirt on and no shoes. Gibbs wanted to call and warn him to be careful and not step on any broken glass with his bare feet.

No one moved. No one breathed. Damian watched the gun that was still trained on Gibbs. Deathstroke switched his vision between the gun pointed at him and the child coming his way. When Deathstroke could reach out and touch the boy, he quickly switched targets and shot Damian in the stomach. The boy cried out in surprise, stumbled, and landed on the glass shards from the window. Before the agents could fire their own weapons, Deathstroke had his gun pointed at Damian's head, which rested at his feet.

"Anything, and his brains will be splattered and you'll be cleaning his blood out of the carpet for months to come," Deathstroke warned. No one moved. The black-and-copper covered man easily swung Damian up from the ground and threw the bleeding boy over his shoulder.

"Now, here's the deal," the man continued. "I'm going to take this boy," he tapped Damian harshly with his gun and the boy let out a low and painful moan, "and leave. You will wait 10 minutes or I'll send back the boy's fingers. One for every minute you didn't give the two of us to leave." He sent a very pointed look at Gibbs, who still had a gun trained on him.

"Have a good day, agents," Deathstroke said before turning and leaving the way he came. Helpless, the agents watched as the Damian disappeared from their sights.

The ten minutes that everyone waited felt like ten years; but they stood patiently—no one doubted that Deathstroke would carry through with his threat. Finally, the time was over.

"Damn it!" Gibbs shouted as everyone broke into chatter and nervousness. People were called as other agents began to take note of the scene. Tony and Ziva came up to him.

"Hey, boss—" Tony began, but one look from Gibbs and he was silence.

"He's ten DiNozzo! Ten! He shouldn't be going through this! How could we not protect him? Where do we even go from here?" feeling tired all of a sudden, Gibbs sat in his chair and rubbed his temples.

"He told me what to do Boss," McGee said. Three heads snapped up at his statement. "Damian gave me a number to call. Told me to ask for Grayson and then tell him 'Red X' and relay what happened here."

Well what are you waiting for McGee?" Gibbs asked. "Let's go make that call." They went to a conference room, as it was secluded and private. McGee dialed the number and all four waited with baited breath as the phone continued to ring.

"Hello?" the voice of a young man answered.

"Hello, is this Mr. Grayson?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes is it," Grayson replied, "who is this and what can I do for you?"

"This is Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs of NCIS," Gibbs told the man. "And we're actually hoping you can help us."

"A federal agent, huh? Well, Officer Dick Grayson of the Bludhaven Police Department at your service."

"We have a message for you, Officer Grayson, and a story to go with it. We'd rather deliver it in person, so if you could please come down to D.C., we'd really appreciate it."

"Sure, I'll be there as soon as I can," he replied casually. Gibbs rolled his eyes at the officer's carefree manner.

"Officer Grayson, this is of the utmost importance," Gibbs stressed, wanting the man to come to their building immediately. "My team and I were told to tell you 'Red X'." The breathing on the other end of the line stopped. "Officer Grayson? You still with me?"

"I'm thankfully in the area," the man's voice finally came back over the line. However, now it was more shaky and less confident and joyful than it had been. "Expect me—we have to get right down to work. Is Damian with you now? Can I talk to him? Is he hurt?"

Gibbs steeled himself to deliver the bad news. "Officer Grayson, I'm so sorry to tell you this, but Damian was kidnapped by a man calling himself Deathstroke less than a half-hour ago." The heart-wrenching gasp over the other end of the line caused Gibbs' own heart to clench and the muffled curses only hardened his resolve to find the boy.

"I'll…I'm on my way," Officer Grayson assured them as he hung up the phone. But not before the sounds of cursing could be heard faintly from the other end on the line.

Grayson arrived a few hours after his call, talking on his cell phone. "I don't care Tim! I want you and your friends to help look! Of course I have Babs looking! This isn't a disappearing act Timmy! This is Deathstroke!" The agents paused to listen in as Grayson came up to their desks, making a sorry gesture and holding up a finger for one more minute. "Tim! Focus! I'm with NCIS now, alright? Anything happens, call Alfred or Bruce. Steph and Cass are looking as well, so keep them informed too. And, above all, you find anything you call me, do you understand!" Another pause; Grayson narrowed his eyebrows. "No! You will call me, understood? You have a problem, take it up with Bruce, you got me? Good. And Timmy—please be careful."

"Younger brother?" McGee asked. Grayson nodded.

"Yeah, Damian's the youngest of us," Grayson responded, then laughed. "It's weird. Timmy, I've always been his big brother. Damian, I feel like the parent. I've just taken care of him so much while our father's been gone."

The happy tone gone from his voice, Dick Grayson turned his gaze to each Agent and spoke in a saddened and weary way that one expects of a seasoned parent worried for their child, "I cannot lose Damian. I can't. We need to find him."

The determination from Ziva, Tony, and McGee is match by both Gibbs and Officer Grayson. Gibbs rests his hand on Dick's shoulder. "Don't worry son, we'll find him."

**Well, that's the conclusion of this section of "The Damian Effect." **

**Please leave a review and tell me what you think! **

**The next story will be entitled "The Appeal" and it will be found in the Batman/Suits crossover section and you can see my profile for what else I have planned. Thanks for sticking with me!**


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